Cold
by Okamiblossom
Summary: The sight of her mangled body, armor crusted in blood crushed all of his anger under the unforgiving grief. No comforting warmth, no flame of determination, and no eruption of wrath. His world reduced to the bitter, biting cold; the image of her lifeless body forever burned into his memory.


**Author's Note: Another one shot, this time between Meliodas and Liz, since I don't feel like may people focus on specifically these two. Inspired by Adagio for Strings by Samuel Barber. After playing a piece so filled with grief, I had to write something on paper that captured a similar profound sadness. This is one of my first attempts at tragedy, so please bear with me! Thank you all so much and I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

Frozen.

His muscles went rigid, his blood icy cold, his heart as heavy and still as a stone, wrought in utter disbelief and denial. Time seemed to freeze over entirely. The soft hissing of the rain now sounded like the frenzied beating of drums, though whether it was sound of the rain or the blood pounding in his ears he couldn't tell. His stomach lurched in a violent twist, the suffocating smell of blood and rust making his world dizzy.

This one image burning itself into his memory.

He couldn't move. His body completely numb as he gazed upon her mangled body frosted in her own blood, the loss of which turned her skin the color of snow. Her lips halfheartedly curled into a thin, pitiful attempt for a smile. One last attempt to calm him before the black hell that was bound to erupt the second she took her last breath. Even at the sign that she was still clutching to her life by a thread, even knowing that she still drew breath, Meliodas couldn't break free from his frozen stance. It was if he really had been crusted over in an icy tomb.

She could hold on no longer, and the thread that weaved her life, attached her soul, ripped clean in half, and the redhead sucked her final breath; her last look of the world the somber skies, the mournful gray of the clouds, and the tears of the rain mixing with those of the man she had loved. Yet, in that very moment, she was overcome by an inexplicable feeling of familiarity, one which washed over her like the tranquil waves of the sea. As her final breath faded in a whisper, a sudden warmth embraced her heart; the nostalgic comfort like the tender kiss of the sun's rays.

A curtain of black was sweeping over her vision, so she used the last of her strength to picture him. His tousled golden hair. His softhearted smile, the tender green of his eyes that glistened with a mirth that was never unaccompanied without a misty, far away melancholy; as if he were living in a distant memory. Now, if she had the strength to reassure him with the same warm smile he had always bestowed upon her, she would have. She would have done anything to relieve him of his present grief. As these regretful thoughts swam through her mind, a feeling of serenity brushed through her entire form, and in that final moment, everything seemed to come together. Memory flooded her mind of another life, another time.

 _How could she have never known? Never realized._

Her last thought was one of solemn, absolute faith. It allowed her final moment to be one of hope. Hope for her, but more importantly, hope for him. Hope for them.

 _We'll see each other again._

Upon watching her head drop like that of a doll against the now useless armor that covered her chest sent his heart screaming in sudden anguish, stabbed by the unforgiving icicle of reality. Of isolation. Icicles, like the ones he and Liz had seen when snow had come to Danafor the previous winter. But those were beautiful; glistening in the morning light in sparkles. Now, there was no sun to provide such light. Only the grave, despairing clouds and the wailing of the rain.

Finally his legs moved, though he was hardly aware of it. He knelt to her, brushed his fingers through her scarlet hair as he took her into his arms for what would be the final time. He could taste the bitter tears that melted down his cheeks, feel his very soul quivering in the ultimate despair. Suddenly he heard a distant cry, and for a moment he retracted, convinced momentarily that Liz yet lived. There was no question in his mind that this new presence was that of his beloved. To his dismay, no breath had escaped past her lips.

Another wail. That of a baby. A sliver of warmth reached his trembling heart at the sound. Then he understood. Never before had it been this easy. Never before had her soul migrated to a vessel so close to his current location. He placed his lips upon his lover's forehead once last time, her lifeless body unable to return the warmth his body still radiated with.

 _I love you._

He then made his way to where the cries of the baby originated from. The buildings and houses that once lined the bright, busy streets of Danafor were now nothing more than crumbs of debris littering the cracked, broken ground. Atop the rubble lay a healthy, tiny baby girl already swaddled in soft cloth. Meliodas knew it was her. He could feel it so intensely with every fiber of his being. He scooped up the little bundle, scanning the area for the possible parents. But as far as his eyes could see, there was nothing more than lifeless bodies, damaged and mangled beyond the point of recognition.

 _None are alive._

His attention snapped back to the infant in his grasp, as she continued to wail in his arms from the beating of the cruel rain. Meliodas wasted no time ducking inside a small shack that was miraculously still standing. He checked the child for any signs of damage or infection, but exhaled in relief in finding her almost entirely untouched. He cradled her to his chest, nuzzling her nose with his playfully to try and calm her down.

It seemed to work. Her sniffling died down in response to his actions, and while he was unsure about how to handle this situation, just his presence seemed to be of great comfort to the infant. He tucked her underneath the cloth of his uniform with the crest of Danafor to protect this tiny thing from the howling wind and rain, and stepped back into the hell that was now the ruins of the once proud Danafor.

The wind had picked up to a brutal pace, now ripping right through his clothing. Still, the baby he held to his heart showed no signs of discomfort, and for that he was grateful. His relief then sunk as he once again saw the lifeless body of Liz, reminded of the inescapable reality that he had failed. It only caused him to grip her new vessel all that much tighter.

Only the surprised chuckle of an ominously familiar voice was able to divert his attention away from his shattered heart.

"Is that you, Meliodas? Still frolicking around in your own little dreamland?"

No response.

"Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but this puny human is the spitting image of that little goddess you were so dearly attached to three thousand years ago," the creature mocked, pointing a crooked finger at the body of Liz.

No response.

"What a joyous occasion, that I, Fraudrin, have freed the son of the demon king from the curse of that little witch! Oh how I shall be rewarded when our clan is resurrected!"

He had barely even registered the demon's taunting words. Just the fact that he was standing in his presence, alive, with Liz's blood caked on his hands was enough for Meliodas to gladly hand himself over to his darkness. The one thing he loathed about himself. But right now, he loathed Fraudrin far more.

 _Let it consume me. I don't care anymore. I want to rip that creature apart. Limb by limb. I want to see his blood, to hear his screams. I want to kill. Destroy. Engulf. Eradicate._

Despite the madness, he was aware of the quiet reminder whispered in the back of his head to mind the baby whose was the vessel for his loved one's soul. All he could remember was the delighted singing of his blade as he released it from its sheath, the lifeless corpse of the woman he loved, and the overwhelming sense of pure hunger as he mercilessly hacked apart the body of her murderer, before the tongues of darkness completely swallowed him, and his world went black.

* * *

 _Meliodas, you can forget who you, but never forget the principles that you stand by._

The rain hadn't relented. It fell heavy on Meliodas's back as his haggard breaths escaped his lips. There Fraudrin had fallen, absorbed by the hellish black power that rampaged uncontrollably in the awoken wrath of Meliodas. Only the whimpering of the distressed infant was enough to return Meliodas to his senses.

Throughout his raging battle with that accursed demon, no signs of tears stained her face, but she still gazed up at him with huge, worried round eyes. At the sight Meliodas felt the moisture of his own tears slide down his cheeks. Tears of overwhelming relief from the knowledge that he had kept the child safe even in his crazed state. Tears of devastated sadness in the loss that was his fault. Tears heavy with the guilt that now bore down upon him as if he the weight of the very sky was being forced onto his shoulders. But most of all, the tears came from the enveloping wave of nostalgia at the child's actions.

She had looked at him with genuine concern. With a worry that seemed impossibly mature for the tiny thing that had entered the world only a few hours ago.

"I'm alright," he whispered softly to her, unable to stop his voice from breaking in pain. "Even now, you are worrying for others. Please, worry for yourself for a change."

His words seemed to lull the baby, and her eyes closed as she fell asleep in his arms. He clutched the baby to his chest, trembling as he held her; a faint whimper escaping past his lips. He was aware of the explosion that erupted behind him, but he paid it no mind. He focused on the infant, not having the heart to look back.

Finally he began to move forward. Away from this dark, nightmare of a memory. Though his senses were dulled, practically numb in his grief, he became alerted to the approaching presences of a few holy knights. He only pressed the bundle in his arms closer to his chest. Nothing would get to her. He would make sure of that.

He laid his eyes on the newcomers as a knight began to urgently rush towards him. His senses remained vigilant, but eyes found the ground. The paths taken by old tears clung to his cheeks, new ones beginning to burn in his eyes.

While the rain had retreated, the wind continued to press, though it was no longer a harsh, bitter howl. It was now a gentle pierce that still seemed to tear through his body and further whip his broken heart. Even though the fierce wind and pounding rain had relented, reduced to nothing more than faint whispers of what they were during the climax of Danafor's fall, Meliodas could feel his shivers reach his very soul. How utterly cold the world seemed.

Still, with the sound of the baby's breathing against his chest, the feeling of the rise and fall of her chest, knowing that the soul of his most precious, treasured person rested in the safety of his arms, he began to feel this icy reality of his begin to thaw.

As long as she remain cradled in his arms, pressed to his heart, he couldn't deny the steady, tranquil heat that spread to his core, melting the snow that had entombed his soul.

 _How warm._


End file.
